


The Lorelei Chronicles: Breakdown

by The_Bisexy_Whovian_Werewolf



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:19:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7936279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bisexy_Whovian_Werewolf/pseuds/The_Bisexy_Whovian_Werewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When old memories come back to haunt the Doctor, he needs Lorelei to calm him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lorelei Chronicles: Breakdown

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Possible PTSD trigger. Read at your discretion.

I strolled into the the TARDIS console room, listening to the Riff Off from _Pitch Perfect_.   
“Hey Doctor, where are we going now?”, I asked the Time Lord all dressed in black. He was hunched over the console, face turned away from me.   
“Um, I don’t know yet. The TARDIS is kind of tired. She might not want to go anywhere right now”. There was something odd about his voice. I noticed he wouldn’t turn to face me when he talked.   
“Oh, okay. I only asked because Rose and I agreed that we wanted to go to 1776. When the TARDIS is ready, of course”.   
He didn’t reply. An eerie silence fell over the room. This was too weird. The Doctor usually was the most active guy I knew, always spurting scientific jargon at 500 MPH while pulling random levers and pushing buttons. I didn’t want to pry, but I felt that I couldn’t just leave him alone either.   
“Um… are you okay?”. I put my hand on his shoulder, pulling him around towards me. It was just as I had suspected. His eyes and nose were red, his face was wet, and his mouth was stuck in a miserable frown.   
“I’m fine. It’s nothing you should care about”, he murmured, pushing me away.   
“I think you’ll find that I don’t like being told what to care about and what not to. Please tell me what’s wrong”. He sighed and rubbed his forehead.   
“You know how when you wake up from a really bad nightmare, you’re sweating and you’re heart is beating like crazy and for a second or two you don’t know where you are?”.   
I nodded.   
“Now imagine that happening to you when you’re awake, except in your head the nightmare is going on. You can’t escape it, you can’t think about anything else. That’s what’s wrong”.   
He leaned over the console, eyes shut. He was fighting tears. His expression was familiar to me. I could see in his eyes that he was begging, screaming for somebody to listen. And yet, I knew that for his stepford-smiler facade to falter would mean humiliation, at least in his mind. I unfortunately knew the paradox all too well. I remember the same expression plastered across my face on so many different nights. He gulped and turned to me. I had never seen him this scared before.   
“You know about the Time war, yeah?”.   
Again I nodded.   
“Then you know what nightmare I’m talking about”. He sniffed and turned away.   
“I can still see and hear it in my head. So many screams, so much blood. All those damn Daleks shooting their lasers, killing men, women, and children. But that’s not really the worst of it. The worst part is remembering how helpless I was. One Doctor against 5 billion Daleks. **_What the hell was I supposed to do_**?”.   
He was starting to yell. I didn’t know what to say or how to respond. He didn’t seem to mind my silence.   
“They're all dead, you know. Each and every Time Lord, gone. And it’s my fault. Oh my God it’s my fault…”.   
“Doctor, you did what you had to do”, I assured him.   
“ **I know! But that doesn’t make it hurt less!** ”, he screamed.   
I felt like we were recreating the scene in Dalek where the the Doctor faces the lone Dalek in the cage. Even more terrifying, he slammed his fists into the TARDIS, sending sparks flying. I noticed throughout this entire conversation he hadn't cried once. That struck me as odd.   
“You know, you don’t have to hold it in all the time”, I said gently.   
“Shut up! Yes I do! I’m supposed to be the hero, right? Always saving everyone’s lives, always finding a way out of scrapes. But what if I don’t want to do that anymore? What if I **can’t** do that anymore?”.   
He turned to me, hot tears streaming down his face.   
“What happens when the Doctor can’t be brave and strong anymore?”, he whispered.   
I stared him straight in the eye.   
“When the Doctor can’t be brave, the Doctor needs someone to tell him that he doesn’t always have to be. Because if the Doctor can dance, and laugh, and joke, and grin, then the Doctor can cry, as well”.   
I hugged him, and he didn’t push me away. Instead he sobbed. Sniffling, gasping for breath, trying to pull himself together. I recognized that sound aIl too well. I didn’t care that some of the tears hit me. I was just glad that he wasn’t holding it in anymore. 


End file.
